Reaching into the deep interior pocket of his ragged coat, the old man pulled out a sleek, top-tier smartphone. He tapped the screen once, put the phone to his ear, and spoke with crisp, absolute clarity.
"Yes, this is Arthur Montgomery," he said into the receiver. "The young man at the front desk... he passed."
Vance’s smug expression froze. The color instantly drained from his face until he looked paler than the hospital walls. "M-Montgomery...?"
Arthur Montgomery was the reclusive pharmaceutical magnate and multi-billionaire chairman of the Montgomery Healthcare Trust—the private foundation that had purchased St. Jude Memorial Hospital and twelve other regional clinics just two weeks prior. He had spent the last three days visiting his newly acquired facilities in disguise, testing firsthand whether his administrators valued human life or quarterly profit margins.
Arthur lowered the phone, turning his piercing gaze toward Vance.
"For thirty years, my foundation was built on compassion and healing," Arthur said, his voice ringing with cold thunder. "Yet you stood here, in an emergency room, willing to let an injured man suffer in the cold for five hundred dollars while threatening an honorable young man with termination."
"Mr. Montgomery... Sir, I was simply following the previous board's financial protocol!" Vance stammered, sweat beading across his forehead. "I didn't realize... if I had known—"